Page 12 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“There should be a distinction between how you address me and how my sisters do.”

“What if I truly wish to call you Theo?” she punctuated that with a slight pout.

“Perhaps you should simply call me darling,” he offered with a sly grin, and Agnes felt her cheeks warming. She looked away, mumbling something incoherent while Theodore laughed.

“What private festivities are you two hosting over there?” came Preston’s voice from behind them, carrying a playful note of accusation.

“Such merriment without us?” Frances, who was seated next to her husband, chimed in, her smile bright.

“I cannot tell you how excited I am for you, Aggie,” Emma, who was seated right behind Agnes, leaned in and whispered, her eyes sparkling. “I told you the poet was fond of you,” she added with a nudge, referring to Theodore in their private joke.

“I concede, Emma,” Agnes heaved an exaggerated sigh.

Meanwhile, Theodore was engaged in some discussion with Preston, his back partially turned to Agnes, allowing for their whispers and giggles to go unnoticed for a moment longer. Frances used the opportunity to scoot closer to them, her eyes gleaming.

“You will not believe how fast news of the two of you is traveling through society, Aggie,” Frances whispered. “You won’t believe the lengths to which some of our society matrons will go,” shebegan, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “They’re actually placing wagers on whether or not a certain marriage will happen by season’s end."

Agnes gasped. “You jest! Surely, they wouldn’t dare?”

“Oh, indeed they would,” she affirmed with a nod. “It seems there are no bounds to their meddling and fondness for gossip.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. “How did you find out about all this?” Emma asked, her curiosity piqued.

“The advantage of being the Duchess of Preston,” Frances winked. They held their fans up at the same time and laughed. The gentlemen paused their own discussion and turned identical expressions of curiosity in their directions, each man’s face a mirror of the other’s bemusement at the sudden outbreak of laughter among the ladies.

They were spared any explanations, however, when the performance resumed right then, the lights dimming and the conversations around them quieting as the first notes of the orchestra filled the air once more.

The show was most pleasant, and Agnes was dabbing at her eyes with her gloved hand by the time it ended. Theodore slipped a handkerchief into her free hand and whispered. “I told you that you would need it.” He rose and offered her his hand.

“Do pretend you did not give me this handkerchief and you did not warn me,” she murmured.

“How can I deny the truth, Agnes?” he laughed. He was more charming than she thought, and far removed from the lousy poet at the park.

They emerged in the vestibule, and amidst the throng of people exchanging pleasantries and discussing the evening’s entertainment, they came across a familiar face. “Work with me, Agnes,” Theodore whispered, smiling at her with an expression that looked almost tender.

Agnes could not help the blush that rose up her cheek and the little flutters in her belly. She was about to look away for the sake of self-preservation when Lord Asmont joined them.

“Lord Gillingham, Miss Young,” Asmont greeted as he joined them. Theodore’s gaze deliberately lingered on her before he turned to the Earl.

“Good evening, Lord Asmont. How did you find the show?”

“One of the best tales of love I have seen in a very long time. Did you enjoy it, Miss Young?”

“I did, indeed. If you had joined us earlier, you would have found me in tears.” She waved Theodore’s handkerchief as she said that, and the Earl smiled.

They discussed the play, and Earl, it turned out, was as fond of opera as Agnes was. “My cousin writes plays, Miss Young,” the Earl said. “I shall copy one of his manuscripts for you.”

“That would be splendid! Thank you! I appreciate my imagination being stoked as much as my emotions. And the theater never disappoints in that regard,” she added, feeling her eyes light up.

“Well said, Miss Young,” the Earl boomed, his voice carrying his approval through the vestibule, drawing a few curious glances from the nearby attendees. Then, turning to Theodore, he whispered—but loud enough for her to catch. “I would marry her if I were you, Gillingham. She is most impressive.”

Agnes felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the Earl’s praises, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort swirling within her. The acknowledgment was flattering, indeed, but it also reminded her of the delicate facade they were upholding.

It is necessary,she tried to convince herself, repeating the words in her head.

“There, it wasn’t so difficult to behave yourself for one evening, now was it, Agnes?” Theodore’s voice was a soft murmur as he kissed her knuckles in the front hall after returning her home. The action, though part of their ruse, felt strangely intimate in the quiet of the evening.

Agnes, for her part, pretended to glare at him in response, not quite ready to concede any point, especially not onethat suggested she had been anything less than her usual, composed self. Yet, his chuckle softened the edges of her feigned indignation, making it difficult to maintain her glare.

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